


Letter to the Doctor

by icestorm1196



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Asylum of the Daleks, Divorce, F/M, Gen, mentions of OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:11:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icestorm1196/pseuds/icestorm1196
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a head canon I've got.  Letter from Amy to the Doctor, stream of consciousness type thing.<br/>Takes place leading up to AotD.<br/>And why things started falling apart.</p><p>Probably a one shot.  Might do a Rory one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter to the Doctor

Amy—On the Break-up of her marriage. Stream of Consciousness

Letter to the Doctor, written, ripped up, burned.

I need you.

He started working in Pediactrics.

Just after we got back.

I guess…it was harder to lose her than he thought.

At first, it was fine.

He'd come home, regale me with stories

Long, detailed,

Of what Sam did, or Kelly, or Max.

And I laughed, and I loved him, and he loved them.

And then he came home later.

Picked up more shifts.

Spent more time with the kids, and less time here.

He'd come home, with glitter in his hair, and paints on his hands.

And he was visiting as a friend, not a nurse.

And he wouldn't talk to me about it anymore.

Just grin, and say that

Sam had been silly,

Or Kelly had been creative,

Or Max had been gross.

And soon, it wasn't even that anymore.

Just looking at me, sad smile,

And then, to the hospital.

First, I didn't understand.

I was working too.

A model, you understand.

I was busy too.

And I still loved him.

And he still loved me.

But then, I began to see it.

He wasn't looking at me.

He was looking at my stomach:

Flat, empty, sterile.

He would look sad,

And go off to his children at work,

And leave me

In my too big house,

Empty without him,

Empty without children.

And he would come home,

And give me a kiss on the cheek,

A lingering touch

On my stomach,

And he would mourn what we lost.

I yelled. I was unkind.

I had to be.

The thing he wants most in the world,

I cannot give him.

I cannot be enough for him,

For my brave, beautiful, stupid-face.

I am not enough,

And I am incapable of making him happy.

And if he is unhappy,

Then I cannot pretend to be fine.

And so, I gave him up.

I set him free.

He will have his children.

I, at least, will have me.

And I can pretend he didn't take my heart when he left.

And I won't wonder:

Where is the angel who saved me as a child?

Because, this isn't something you can fix.

This was my choice.

I will love him forever.

To prove it, I push him away.

He will have his children.

He will have his happiness.

I will have neither. But he is my world.

So how can I do any different?

But I need him.

Now, more than ever.


End file.
